Mrs. Warrens Daughter | Page 2

PREFACE
BY THE AUTHOR I VIVIE AND NORIE II HONORIA AND HER
FRIENDS III DAVID VAVASOUR WILLIAMS IV PONTYSTRAD
V READING FOR THE BAR VI THE ROSSITERS VII HONORIA

AGAIN VIII THE BRITISH CHURCH IX DAVID IS CALLED TO
THE BAR X THE SHILLITO CASE XI DAVID GOES ABROAD XII
VIVIE RETURNS XIII THE SUFFRAGE MOVEMENT XIV
MILITANCY XV IMPRISONMENT XVI BRUSSELS AND THE
WAR: 1914 XVII THE GERMANS IN BRUSSELS: 1915-1916 XVIII
THE BOMB IN PORTLAND PLACE XIX BERTIE ADAMS XX
AFTER THE ARMISTICE L'ENVOI

MRS. WARREN'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER I
VIVIE AND NORIE
The date when this story begins is a Saturday afternoon in June, 1900,
about 3 p.m. The scene is the western room of a suite of offices on the
fifth floor of a house in Chancery Lane, the offices of Fraser and
Warren, Consultant Actuaries and Accountants. There is a long
window facing west, the central part of which is open, affording a
passage out on to a parapet. Through this window, and still better from
the parapet outside, may be seen the picturesque spires and turrets of
the Law Courts, a glimpse here and there of the mellow, red-brick,
white-windowed houses of New Square, the tree-tops of Lincoln's Inn
Fields, and the hint beyond a steepled and chimneyed horizon of the
wooded heights of Highgate. All this outlook is flooded with the
brilliant sunshine of June, scarcely dimmed by the city smoke and
fumes.
In the room itself there are on each of the tables vases of flowers and a
bunch of dark red roses on the top of the many pigeon-holed bureau at
which Vivien Warren is seated. The walls are mainly covered with
book-shelves well filled with consultative works on many diverse
subjects. There is another series of shelves crowded with neat, green,
tin boxes containing the papers of clients. A dark green-and-purple
portière partly conceals the entry into a washing place which is further
fitted with a gas stove for cooking and cupboards for crockery and
provisions. At the opposite end of the room is a door which opens into

a small bedroom. The fireplace in the main room is fitted with the best
and least smelly kind of gas stove obtainable in 1900.
There are two square tables covered with piles of documents neatly tied
with green tape and ranged round the central vase of flowers; a heavy,
squat earthenware vase not easily knocked over; and there is a second
bureau with pigeon-holes and a roll top, similar to the one at which
Vivien Warren is seated. This is for the senior partner, Honoria Fraser.
Between the bureaus there is plenty of space for access to the long west
window and consequently to the parapet which can be used like a
balcony. Two small arm-chairs in green leather on either side of the
fireplace, two office chairs at the tables and a revolving chair at each
bureau complete the furniture of the partners' room of Fraser and
Warren as you would have seen it twenty years ago.
The rest of their offices consisted of a landing from which a lift and a
staircase descended, a waiting-room for clients, pleasantly furnished, a
room in which two female clerks worked, and off this a small room
tenanted by an office boy. You may also add in imagination an
excellent lavatory for the clerks, two telephones (one in the partners'
room), hidden safes, wall-maps; and you must visualize everything as
pleasing in colour--green, white, and purple--flooded with light; clean,
tidy, and admirably adapted for business in the City.
Vivien Warren, as already mentioned, was, as the curtain goes up,
seated at her bureau, reading a letter. The letter was headed "Camp
Hospital, Colesberg, Cape Colony, May 2, 1900"; and ran thus:--
DEAREST VIVIE,--
Here I am still, but my leg is mending fast. The enteric was the worse
trouble. That is over and done with, though I am the colour of a
pig-skin saddle. My leg won't let me frisk just yet, but otherwise I feel
as strong as a horse.
When I was bowled over three months ago and the enteric got hold of
me, on top of the bullet through my thigh, I lost my self-control and
asked the people here to cable to you to come and nurse me. It was silly

perhaps--the nursing here is quite efficient--and if any one was to have
come out on my account it ought to have been the poor old mater, who
wanted to very much. But somehow I could only think of you. I wanted
you more than I'd ever done before. I hoped somehow your heart might
be touched and you might come out and nurse me, and then out of pity
marry me. Won't you do so? Owing to my stiff leg